EVENTS

You didn’t see it. You didn’t hear it. Neither did I. But Episcopal Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire gave a brief convocation today at the inaugural events in Washington, D.C.. I suppose CNN can’t show everything that goes on… my only hope is that if the directive came down, “don’t show the controversial preacher”, that they apply the same rule on Tuesday.

With sincere and heartfelt apologies to Simon and Garfunkel…

We’d like to have you speak at our inaugural event…We’d like to put your face up on the screenLook around you; all you see are Democratic eyes.Stroll around the Mall until it’s time to speak

Standing on the marble steps, with Lincoln looking downGoing through the motions for TVLaugh about it, Shout about it, Try to spread the wordAnyway, the Bishop wasn’t heard

Where have you gone, Marian Anderson?The GMC is singing just like youOoo ooo oooWhat’s that you say, Bishop Robinson?CNN sure kept you locked awayHey hey hey… hey hey hey…

The text of Bishop Robinson’s speech can be found at Pam’s House Blend, and is well worth the read. Fortunately, the Bishop was not just talking to his god, but to thousands of people as well. Maybe his words will make a difference as a result.

Update–Pam’s House Blend (and a few other places) has the video of the speech. My own reaction to the video… maybe it’s me, but I think his prayer is a lot more moving when it is in the voice in my head, rather than Robinson’s voice. Beautifully written, but…

Good morning, class; Today, we’ll callThe “Academic Free-For-All”—We’ll take a break from evidence,From peer-review, from making sense,From climbing up atop our giantsAnd other silly ways of science.Today, I’d like to talk aboutThe theories often done without;The ones held by tenacious few(And yes, they laughed at Einstein, too!)

Today, I’d like to speak with youOn “Origin of Species 2”The sequel Darwin meant to writeBut didn’t, due to oversight.Of course, he did not know of genes,But knew that, there, behind the scenesOf each mutation, pulling stringsAnd mucking with all sorts of things,The “unmoved mover”, if you wish,There lurked a giant cuttlefish.

Today, dear students, (quiet please!)Take out your old recycled treesAnd open them—page ninety-three,Now listen very carefully—Who really wrote the Shakespeare playsWhile Will was in his drunken haze?Not Bacon—no, and not deVere,Today I’m going to make it clearThough “they” will claim my claim’s absurdA cuttlefish wrote every word.

Today (sit down and shut your yaps!)We side-step academic traps,To tell the truth as we see fitAnd put away that standard shit.What holds a plane up in the air?We’ve tested currents, lift, and prayer—All crap! But in a dream last nightIt came to me… and must be right.We’re held up high and safe from harmsIn a giant cuttlefish’s arms.

This Academic Free-For-All-ingMay seem fun, or just appalling!If you’re dismayed, please have no fear,There’s method to our madness here;It’s meant to draw attention toThe structure to the work we doThe methods that we use, we must,To get results that you may trust.A Free-For-All Day sure is fun,But aren’t you happy when it’s done?

It’s this “strong vs. weak atheism” business. I’m sure you have heard the terms; they purport to categorize those who “believe there is no god” and those who “hold no belief in a god”, respectively. A weak atheist allegedly does not believe, but a strong atheist allegedly believes that there is no god.

Stop using these terms. Stop it. Just stop it, right now. They are worse than useless.

Atheism is the “none of the above” category; it’s the “nothing for me, thanks” equivalent. A co-worker of mine, when he found out I am an atheist, asked me “which god is it you don’t believe in?” He was a christian minister, and must have thought himself very clever. Of course, he would have strongly believed in the god of the Bible–and it makes sense to speak of that as a strong belief. He had no doubts (despite plenty of reason to doubt, having lost family in a flood at a bible camp!), whereas others may have a few doubts, or grave doubts.

He also, as a devout believer, would have been a strong disbeliever in, say, Zeus. Which is why the terms are silly. Belief is object-specific. My sister is a believer–does that tell you much about her? Is she Christian? Muslim? Jewish? If she is Christian, what does that tell you? Is she Catholic? Lutheran? Baptist? Not all believers are the same (duh), and each of these different belief systems is positively defined, with regard to a specific object of belief. My co-worker, as an article of faith in his god, strongly believed that there were no other gods. His disbelief in Zeus was part of a positive description of his world-view, not merely an absence of belief in Zeus. (By the way, you may also have heard the argument “ask yourself why you do not believe in all the gods you don’t believe in–I just apply the same reasons to one more god than you do.” While this may be correct for some, it obviously would not work for my co-worker. His reason for not believing in god X was that god Y had told him not to–this does not generalize to god Y, and is also very probably not the reason an atheist does not believe.)

An absence of belief is just that–an absence. Zero on the scale. You don’t get more zero by adding exclamation points, or more zeroes after a decimal. You may have positive beliefs that are relevant–I, for instance, believe that an understanding of the psychology and neurology of belief more than adequately accounts for the reasons people believe in a god, without an actual god being required at all–but this is a separate positive belief, not a “stronger absence of belief”.

Stronger and weaker are terms that are appropriate when speaking positively of a belief, but irrelevant when speaking of an absence; to use the terms is to strengthen the anti-atheist position that speaks of “atheist agenda”. Catholics may have an agenda, but non-catholics? Muslims may have an agenda, but non-muslims? (note–I am not using “agenda” to mean anything other than their defining beliefs.) “None of the above” does not have an agenda.

I looked in my wallet, to take out a note—There was someone I needed to pay.Now, I’m used to my wallet containing just nothing,But there’s even more nothing today

I didn’t just not have a dollar today, I didn’t have twenty or more!I didn’t have hundreds, I didn’t have thousands,More nothing than ever before!

It’s not that I’m working with negative numbers,Just zeroes, and zeroes galore!I thought that, with zeroes, just one was enoughBut I’ve zeroes today by the score!

There’s nothing—just nothing—a whole lot of nothing,There’s nothing all over the placeJust zeroes, and zeroes, and zeroes and zeroes…I’m lucky they take up no space.

You’d think inundation with infinite nothingWould be a particular hellBut the thing about nothing—no matter how much—Is that nobody really can tell.

You can doubly my nothing, it’s still only nothing,At double-or-nothing the oddsAnd nothing is nothing, when speaking of moneyOr even believing in gods.

I really don’t think my readership contains a whole lot of people who are offended by strong language, or who cannot recognize satire, but if either or both of those describe you, I am warning you that the last verse this time might be one you want to miss.

So, as it turns out, what PZ Myers did to a communion wafer is not something that can be taken care of by his local priest. No, this was so egregious that it must be handled by the Pope himself.

Oh, the Pope’ll make you pay ferWhat you did to that poor waferAnd you oughta be just mortified for doing what you did!It’s a sin to take a nail an’Poke a cracker, cos impalin’Is a Godly thing, that only He can do unto His Kid.If you’d only done, say, homicide,Or broke some sacred promise, I’dExpect some lower lackey is authority enoughBut to drive a nail through JesusOn your blog, no less, to please us,Why the Pope himself’s required, when it comes to cracker snuff.

I looked up to the heavens and I wished upon a starThough I knew it couldn’t hear, from unimaginably far,I wished two arms to hold me, two arms to keep me tight,Two arms that I could cling to every second of the night, Two arms to keep me safe and warm, two arms to share my fun—I meant “two arms in total”, but that star’s a silly one.

Musing on the merits of politeness…

Would you think me less than civilIf I gussied up my drivel?Would your disappointment shrivel up and vanish in the mist?Would you give me greater latitudeIf I cleaned up my attitude?I do not need your gratitude, goddammit, I am pissed!Comments here may seem…well, rude,But they’re rarely misconstruedIf you’d rather be a prude and miss the point, then go to hell.Want polite? You’re out of luck, youSmarmy bastard, cos you suck. YouDon’t deserve less than a “fuck you, and the horse you rode as well”

This one came before my “cuttlefish genome”, but was a quick response to the same story—Steve Pinker’s genome being made public.

The volumes that are written in a strand of DNAAre a poetry we thought beyond our reachBut thanks to all the thinkers reading genomes such as Pinker’sWe will see how much a molecule can teach.

More arguing over trying to force creationism into schools…

If ignorance was good for me, It’s good for children, too;If I get by not knowing bupkus, so by god can you.Them science types, they use big words–don’t understand a bit.I’m happy with Creation, cos it keeps me dumb as shit.If Darwin’s evolution says we’re all just beasts and brutesThere’s no room for religion, or for spiritual pursuits.Creation puts us humans at the top where we belongBesides, don’t want my kids to learn the fact that… I am wrong.

First, go read scicurious’s ode to the prairie voles in love. Otherwise, you won’t get the context for this next one. Besides, it’s wonderful. So… go. read. I’ll wait.

Yeah, this next one is offensive. It’s satire. I think my credentials on this issue have been established on this blog. The targets of my ire here are the commenters to an editorial in the Concord (NH) Monitor (as reported at Dr. Joan Bushwell’s Chimpanzee Refuge) about Bishop Gene Robinson having been asked to speak at Obama’s inauguration. Don’t bother reading them—I have summed them up here.

Sing praises! Hallelujah! Thank you Jesus! Happy Day!Unless, of course, you pervert, you’re a godless bastard Gay–All you faggots, dykes, and homos, all you lesbos, all you queers,You’ve been persecuting Christian folks for too, too many years!With your godless Gay Agenda, and your Liberal Elite,You expect us decent people, now, to bow and kiss your feet?Now this Robinson, this homo, who pretends that he’s a priest,Real Americans will tell you he’s not Christian in the least–He’s unchristian, unamerican, inhuman, and insaneHe’s pretending he’s religious just for monetary gain;He’s a hypocrite, a liar, he’s a Communist insideCos America was founded with the Bible as its guide!When he dies (and he’ll die early–he’s unhealthy, you can tell)I can only hope he’s happy sucking Satan’s cock in HellWhile good Christians spend eternity just spitting from above,Where we’re gathered up in Heaven… because God, you know, is Love.

So, Steve Pinker’s genome is going to be made public. He comes across as quite willing to recognize genetic determinism, but in my view he is all too dismissive of our ability to systematically analyze our environmental variability. “Nonshared environment” is “just a fudge factor” in twin studies; to my ear, it sounds like a bit of an argument from ignorance. It should not be a fudge factor, it should be a fertile area for study. But for now…

They analyzed my genome, and they put it in a book,Which they offered me, politely, so I thought I’d take a look.I wondered what my genome could inform me of myself,So I summoned up my courage… and I pulled it from the shelf.

It spoke in broad percentages and probabilitiesAnd it warned we are unable to extrapolate from these;The educated reader knows the folly of that task—But the info’s on the pages, so it couldn’t hurt to ask.

My eyes, it said, were hazel, if I represent the mean;But the distribution spreads a bit, and so my eyes are green.I’m average height, and average weight; I’m healthy in my heart,And I’ve got some good potential, or I did back at the start.

I ought to be a genius (that should make me a believer)If I hadn’t scrambled half my brains with adolescent fever;(The doctors say my fever was a nasty one-oh-eight;Sure, my nature points to brilliance, but my nurture says “too late!”)

It says I’ve got a decent chance of having OCDBut I have to tell you, honestly, I think I disagree—I’m not the sort to check my stove or light-switch all the time,Not obsessive or compulsive… save for meter and for rhyme.

It tells me I prefer a blonde—I much prefer brunette,Ah, but maybe there’s the perfect woman I have never metIt tells me I should love the taste of steak and kidney pie,But I’ve never really eaten one—I guess I’d better try.

The listed probabilities all seem to interactLike a winning hand in poker, less the one or two I lacked,When I add them all together, It was plain for me to seeJust a chance in several billion that I’d come out just like me.

It’s getting to the point, these days, where looking at the newsIs utterly depressing—it’s the information blues;Not merely the economy, although that’s bad enough;But politics, environment, and scientific stuff—For instance, just this morning as I had my morning cupAnd read the recent news reports I just had Googled up,I read a Harvard physicist (named Alex Wissner-Gross)Accusing me of murder (well, not really, but it’s close)!You see, my carbon footprint (which we know is really bad)Was growing with each Google search and coffee that I had!About the same for each of them, at roughly seven grams—I looked around and saw… I’m part of several other scams!My clothing uses pesticides, and fertilizers too,Synthetics from petroleum and other sorts of goo;My jacket and my shoes were made from something that had diedAnd someone earns a buck a day to make stuff from its hideThe other night I had a roast, a fine New Zealand lamb,About as far as possible to ship to where I am—I’d love to have some swordfish, but there’s hardly any left,Though still so cheap to buy it that it might as well be theft.My cellphone, so they tell me, is a cause of global warFor coltan and cassiterite, and other metal ore—The cost of its convenience isn’t one I have to bear;The tragedy, of course, all happens way, way over there.My TV set, my microwave, my fridge, my stove, my car,Each everyday convenience (all the work’s done from afar)Is making me my own environmental wrecking crew —Including, as it happens, this here verse I write for you.…I’ll try to shrink my footprint, and report on how it goes:First, clothing—I’ll run naked through the January snows;I’ll walk to work—no driving, and my bike is from Brazil, Not local manufacture, so it hardly fits the bill;I’ll turn off light, and shut off heat—or hold my class outside,Reduce our carbon footprint, but increase our civic pride!

I can’t go to the store, because I’m giving up my carBut walking there’s a nightmare—I can’t carry stuff that far.I’d have it all delivered, but I cannot make the call;I’m giving up my cellphone, cos of genocide and all.Besides, when they deliver, it’s this big enormous truck…

While the ScienceBlogs are cooling their heels, I’ll do a little housekeeping, and tidy up some of the comments from elsewhere. First, a reaction to a pro-Paliban website. The question at hand was–can this website possibly be for real?

Once upon a late December, If correctly I remember,Waiting for the year’s last ember soon to stop its cheery glowClicking through my browser’s pages, while outside the winter rages,Hoping that the words of sages from the screen would somehow flowThough the internet’s where words of wisdom rarely ever flow;Odds are better it’s a Poe.

But the horrors I envision, with each click and each decision,As my brain endures collision with both web-page and bordeauxHave my frontal lobe infected, which I thought had been protectedWhen Obama was elected, not Wasilla’s queen of snow;I had hoped we’d seen the last of her, and sent her back to snow,It must surely be a Poe.

etc.

And my last comment of the old year, or maybe my first comment of the new year, I forget.

Around the world, the stroke of midnight seems to cause a riot.In Cuttlehouse, this year at least, it passes all too quiet.The Cuttlekids are off with friends, the Cuttlespouse online,And me? I’m mostly lost in thought (a wee bit lost in wine).Remembering the year gone by, my best in years (by far!),And wishing you… the best of years… where e’re it is you are.

Kent Hovind, with not much better to do while behind bars, continues to publish his “dialogs with God”.

A dialog with god or dogIs oftenest a monologue

The Great State of Oklahoma is attempting to officially dumb down science. Following a suggestion by George Orwell, their new anti-evolution bill is the “Scientific Education and Academic Freedom Act”.

What Senator would ever chooseTo stand opposed to Freedom?Don’t worry that the kids might loseTheir smarts–they’ll never need’em!

Why, ignorance, in politicsBecomes a badge of honor!The truth is, to these Senate pricks,A designated goner.

Their ignorance, a point of pride–A fundamental tenet–Leaves students only qualifiedFor Oklahoma Senate.

A bit of a musing on why it is that so many people believe that humans have reached the point where evolution no longer applies to us.

There really is no mysteryIn how these people think;When all recorded historyIs evolution’s *blink*;If, from a movie, say we willRemove a single frame–The picture there is standing stillAnd must remain the same.Our children look… about like usThey don’t seem “more evolved”–And so, case closed, no muss, no fuss;The problem is resolved.Of course, they’re wrong, as I and youBoth know; the truth is this–That Man has a myopic view,And ignorance is bliss.

PeeZee? PeeZed?

There once was a man named PZWhose minions were easily led–By the thousands, for him,They would bow to his whimUntil pollsters were all filled with dread!

In a frankly bizarre ad campaign, a major burger chain will send you a coupon for a free burger for every ten friends you delete from your Facebook friends list.

Think of all your friends, deleted,Just for burgers, barely meated,

Friendship–just like that, so fickle,Just so you can hold your pickle

Your former friends, they are the onesWho put the meat between your buns

If you’d trade friends for meat and mustardI, for one… am just disgustard.

(And now this silly writing ends–I’m off to sell my facebook friends.)

Wow! Somebody posted one of my poems on the BBC blog! Way down at comment 183. Comment 184 calls it “hardly poetry”. (Actually, it is not one of my favorites at all–I always found it clunky and stilted–but objectively speaking, the writer of comment 184 is a jerk.)

More to the point, though… the question under debate is whether the BBC’s “Thought For The Day”, which currently is filled exclusively with religious voices (of various denominations, of course), should expand to include atheist Thought as well. The Beeb is opposed, currently:

Thought for the Day is a unique slot in which speakers from a wide range of religious faiths reflect on an issue of the day from their faith perspective. In the midst of the three hour Today programme devoted to overwhelmingly secular concerns – national and international news and features, searching interviews etc – the slot offers a brief, uninterrupted interlude of spiritual reflection. We believe that broadening the brief would detract from the distinctiveness of the slot.

Within Thought for the Day a careful balance is maintained of voices from different Christian denominations and other religions with significant membership in the UK. We are broadcasting to the general Radio 4 audience which regularly engages with the comments and ideas expressed by our contributors from the world’s major faiths – whether they are believers or not.

Outside Thought for the Day the BBC’s religious output contains both religious and non-religious voices in programmes such as Sunday, Beyond Belief, Moral Maze. In these programmes atheists, humanists and secularists are regularly heard, the religious world is scrutinised, its leaders and proponents are questioned.

Non-religious voices are also heard extensively across the general output in news, current affairs, documentaries, talks, science, history. These programmes approach the world from perspectives which are not religious. As, of course, do the other 2 hours 57 minutes of Today.”

So… let’s see if I have this straight. For 2 hours 57 minutes, anyone can talk; there is no requirement of belief or lack thereof. For three minutes, though, atheists are not allowed.

Excluding the atheists—sure, that’s ok—So long as it’s only three minutes a dayOr judging your worth based on how much you weighSo long as it’s only three minutes a dayGet out, if you’re black! Or you’re white! Or you’re gray!So long as it’s only three minutes a dayAnd keep your mouth shut if you chance to be gaySo long as it’s only three minutes a day

Let’s bother the man with the ill-made toupeeSo long as it’s only three minutes a dayAnd joke at the homeless, with no place to staySo long as it’s only three minutes a dayAny group that we wish, we can not let them playSo long as it’s only three minutes a dayAnd look down our noses in utter dismaySo long as it’s only three minutes a day

It’s only three minutes; no need for dismayIf you choose to get huffy, and join in the frayWe’ll label you “angry” to keep you at bayDismissing your view as a public displayAnd repackaging it as some worn-out clichéFrom a group with essentially nothing to say

And it’s fine if our freedom of speech goes away…So long as it’s only three minutes a day

(and for the benefit of the writer of comment 184–Don’t worry; I already agree with you, it’s not poetry. I don’t write poetry, I write verse. And it will not nourish your soul, for perhaps the same reason that it will not nourish the pixies in your garden.)

Sid’s great escape from the Portobello Aquarium is about to become permanent. ...“We are still trying to catch a new octopus to replace Sid, who will then be set free.”

Bummer for the new guy, of course, but good news for Uncle Sid!

…of course, as PZ points out, Sid has a short life expectancy, so it was probably time to go looking for a replacement anyway, before some little visitor to the aquarium asks why Sid has turned gray and started floating upside-down… So it turns out that freedom’s just another word for no much time to live.

Hey, that’s catchy…

Busted flat in Portobello, hiding in a drainHe was feeling just as trapped as he could beSid escaped from his little tank and tried to make it plainHe’d rather spend his last days in the sea

Five days later, Sid was seen… heading for the doorHe didn’t make it, but you know, at least he triedHe saw an open doorway and he knew what it was forHe knew it had to lead to the other side

Freedom’s just another word for not much time to liveBut better than the drainpipe where he hidThey couldn’t make him happy, so they gave what they could giveAnd it’s good enough to do what they just didGood enough for me, and my octopus, Sid.

From the warm New Zealand ocean, to the Portobello tankHey, Sid, he was an underwater starBut even if they fed him, he couldn’t give them thanksIt ain’t free food, if jail is where you are.

And now that Sid is growing old, and soon is going to die(They don’t live very long, like you or me)His keepers soon will let him go, and he won’t ask them why—If you’re gonna die, you might as well die free.

Freedom’s just another word for not much time to liveBut better than the drainpipe where he hidThey couldn’t make him happy, so they gave what they could giveAnd it’s good enough to do what they just didGood enough for me, and my octopus, Sid.

The latest suspect, oxytocin,Floods the brain when we draw close (inSome perfumes they’ll add a dose, inHopes of that reaction)The chemical increases trust,So hopes are that it may, or mustProduce a love that’s more than lustOr “animal attraction”

But oxytocin, too, controls The bonding seen in prairie volesWhich act as if they pledge their soulsTo one and only one;Their cousins, though, the rats and miceBehave as if they don’t think twiceAnd if some nearby rodent’s niceThey’ll surely have some fun

The differences twixt vole and mouse—Why one’s a catch and one’s a louse—If chemistry you would espouseAs why, I disagree—The chemistry’s not why, but howOne rodent keeps its marriage vowAnd one seeks out new fields to plowNot why at all, you see.